Servent to His Wishes
by Whovian of a Thousand Words
Summary: Draco Malfoy has been given an impossible task. Will he prove his worth or will he slither back into his hole? **HBP movie-verse / SPOILERS**


As he laid waiting in the bed, his gray eyes look up unblinkingly at the arched ceiling, pondering, fearing, worrying, hesitating, wondering. This was _his_ mission. _He_ was chosen for this. The Dark Lord's word was law. But Draco Malfoy was hesitant. He hesitated to go back to the Room of Requirement, to meet the other Death Eaters and carry out the mission. The whole year, he had been plagued by the thoughts of this moment, the 'test' of his new life as a Death Eater. At first, the job had seemed quick, easy, and conquerable. But as the days wore on, madness seemed to overtake his mind whenever thoughts of the mission arose.

He had never once confessed it to anyone, but he had come to hold the headmaster in formidable terms of respect. Albus Dumbledore seemed to radiate his wisdom and knowledge; such things that Draco craved. But under the pressure of his esteemed name and his classmates, he forced himself to act as if he didn't give a damn. But he did, oh yes, he did.

Draco assessed his two choices: First, he could go through with it. He could perform the deed and win the Dark Lord's favor, win his family's pride back, and win his _own _pride back. On the other hand, he could run. If he did run, the other Death Eaters, and quite possibly the Dark Lord himself, would hunt him and his family down. They might be tortured, they might be killed; it solely depended on whatever mood the Dark Lord was in. He shuddered despite the thick blanket.

_No._ Draco told himself firmly. _I'm not like him, I won't do it._ He rolled over and, pulling the covers over himself, tried to go back to sleep. But the thoughts of his family's screams as they were tortured and/or killed persuaded him otherwise. _The Dark Lord's word is law._ He thought mournfully._ I cannot go against him. _He reluctantly peeled the covers back off and swung his legs over the side of the bed. The stone floor chilled his feet as soon as they touched it and his hands shook with fear and excitement as he dressed. Picking up his wand, Draco put on his shoes and walked as calmly out the door as he could. He kept repeating the same thing to himself the whole way:

_The Dark Lord's word is law._

_The Dark Lord's word is law._

He walked quickly and quietly past a group of chattering fourth and fifth years huddled in an alcove behind a pillar. Professor McGonagall suddenly came out of nowhere across the courtyard. Draco dove out of sight as she told the students to go back to their houses. Thunder rumbled in the distance. He looked past the stone pillar to see if McGonagall had seen him, but she had disappeared.

The Room of Requirement wasn't far now. His heart hammered in his chest. As the winding halls became more and more familiar from day-to-day usage, Draco began thinking about what he needed in order to activate the Room. _I need a place where everything is hidden._ There, at the end of the hall, the door materialized into the stone wall. Draco's steps slowed slightly, but he entered the room none-the-less. He paced through the twisting maze of old, forgotten, disused, and discarded items. At last, he reached the tall, triangular wardrobe. Automatically, his pale, quivering hand grabbed the thick material concealing the Vanishing Cabinet and pulled it off. Draco stepped back as the handle began turning, creating a low, mournful creaking. He fled the room.

He didn't want to face his fellows.

Not yet.

He exited the room and looked both ways, to be sure no one saw him. Then he half-ran to the entrance to Dumbledore's office. The giant phoenix spiral staircase was already at the top. Draco's whole body was shaking now. Gripping his wand tightly, the sixth-year worked his way up the staircase. As soon as he reached the top and was about to open the door, he hesitated. His arm was outstretched toward the door handle, hovering in the air.

_The Dark Lord's word is law._ He reminded himself. Draco pushed the door open quietly. Various contraptions whirred and hummed on the many tables and surfaces. A golden chair that strongly resembled a throne sat behind a magnificent dark cherry desk. Rolls of parchment, books, goblets, quills, bottles of ink, and candles littered the desk, showing Draco just how busy the headmaster was. A huge red and gold bird sat sleeping on a perch behind the desk.

Draco stopped moving toward the stairs at the back of the office. Dumbledore was up there at the top of the tower, but he seemed to be talking to someone. He kept his wand raised as he climbed the black iron spiral staircase with the stealth of a cat. He pointed his wand at the headmaster from behind the giant sundial.

Dumbledore said 'Good evening Draco,' with a pleasant smile. The Slytherin demanded to know who he had been talking to. The headmaster smiled and insisted that he often talked aloud to himself; he found it quite useful. As Dumbledore talked on, Draco realized how much he knew. He had figured out the necklace and the bottle of mead with no problems. He had known it was him, not suspected, knew. Dumbledore looked at Draco over his half-moon glasses with a small smile of amusement on his face as he told young Death Eater calmly that he was no assassin. Draco practically shrieked that this was his mission, he was chosen for it, as he ripped back his left sleeve to expose the newly branded Dark Mark in the flesh on the underside of his wrist.

Dumbledore gave him a look of pity. "Draco," He said calmly, "I once knew a boy who made all the wrong choices. Let me help you."

"Don't you understand?" He yelled, his face contorting into a swirl of misery, anger, and confusion. "I _have_ to do this! I _have_ to kill you! Or he's going to kill me…" _The Dark Lord's word is law._ He raised his wand again, trying to keep his shaking arm steady. At that moment, the other Death Eaters came up the staircase, Bellatrix in the lead. Dumbledore greeted her, too, bidding her a good evening.

The rest was a blur. Draco barely heard the headmaster ask him how the Death Eaters managed to get into the school. He told Dumbledore about the connected Vanishing Cabinets in Borgin and Burkes and the Room of Requirement.

Bellatrix was becoming sorely impatient. She urged Draco over and over to finish the job. "NOW!" She hollered. Draco opened his mouth, about to utter the curse—

"No." The response was quiet; it had not come from the sixth-year's mouth. Every head turned. Snape had silently made his way up the stairs and was walking to the front of the group. A strange, pained look was plastered on his face.

_The Dark Lord's word is law._

There was a long silence exchanged between the headmaster and Death Eater. "Severus…" Dumbledore said quietly. All heads looked between the two. "Please?"

Snape hesitated, but raised his wand—

"_Avada Kedavra."_ The words were simple, but oh so complicated. Draco's eyes were momentarily blinded from the blast of green light that flooded the room. Dumbledore flew backwards and over the railing of the tower. Snape stayed frozen on the spot as the other Death Eaters raced to the railing and looked over the side. His body was still falling, arms outstretched, as if begging for someone to catch him; but no one could or would reach out. Dumbledore's face betrayed no emotion; his electric blue eyes seemed dulled.

Bellatrix gave a roar of delight as she cast the Dark Mark into the sky above the spire. The Death Eaters practically dragged Draco away from the railing, but he shook them off and continued on his own. They walked down the phoenix staircase and through the halls of the school, Snape in the lead. Terrified and yet relived at the circumstances, Draco walked with them, his mind bellowing in horror.

_It wasn't me. I didn't kill him. I'm not like the Dark Lord. But now I've made myself and my family possible targets…_

Bellatrix stood on one of the long tables and had blasted the windows out of the Great Hall; the room was filled with the sound of shattering glass. The sudden rush of wind caused the suspended candles to all go out with a hush, whispering:

_The Dark Lord's word is law._

Before he knew it, the Death Eaters were running down the grounds, through the forest, and past Hagrid's hut. In a sudden rush of violence, Bellatrix pointed her wand at the house, and the tiny cabin burst into flames. Draco flinched and backed away from the blaze. She jumped up and down, yelling happily, and relishing in the destructive power of the fire.

"SNAPE!" Everyone turned. Draco's lip curled out of habit, Potter was running down the sloping lawn, firing accusations and spells at Snape. "He trusted you!" The former Potions master deflected Potter's spells easily and sent the boy flying onto his back. The other Death Eaters stepped forward to help, drawing their wands.

"No!" Snape roared. Everyone backed off. "He belongs to the Dark Lord!" Rowle grabbed Draco by the arm and carted him away. This barely fazed him. His miserable terror had resurfaced, his master would find out soon. Draco had failed his mission, and failed to follow the most important law of a Death Eater.

_The Dark Lord's word is law._

* * *

_A little R&R would be lovely! But please keep in mind this is from a year or two ago. I only reposted it as is because I like this story. :)_


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